Me and You and Sourwolf Too
by I'mtheAlphahearmeRoar
Summary: When Derek catches up to Stiles, he finds the young man in front of the puppy pen, cooing at the little furry animals chasing each other behind the glass. One puppy in particular, a brown and white pug, bounds over and head buts right into it before shaking itself off and yipping happily. Stiles squeals. That's it. The sound of want.


**_Okay, so a best friend of mine gave me this prompt: Stiles and Derek walk past a pet shop. Stiles begs for a puppy and Derek won't let him. When Derek goes to work or something Stiles goes back to the store and gets a puppy and when Derek gets back he is furious. They get into an argument and Stiles leaves pissed off. Derek is left home with the puppy and starts playing with it. When Stiles comes back Derek is sleep cuddling the puppy and yeah you get the picture._**

**_Me, of course, like always managed to change some minor/major details in the prompt. So, yup, I just hope you still like this Kim :)_**

* * *

The pet store's been there for years, located on a street just a couple minutes' walk from the park. When Stiles was a young boy his mom and dad took him to the park every week, straight after school, to play for an hour or two, and sometimes, afterwards, if they had time before dark, they would let him have a look inside the pet store at all the different kinds of animals.

Puppies. Stiles had always loved the puppies. Everything about them. The way their tongues lolled out of their mouths, drool collecting on their gums and dripping down their fangs in an adorable line of dribble. The way their eyes danced with glee, bright and full of life, like they were always happy and never sad. Their teeny tiny paws, how they curled them up near their heads when they slept, twitching them to each breath they inhaled and exhaled.

Stiles had always wanted a puppy. Every time they entered the pet store and looked at the puppies he would jump up and down, pulling on his mommy's dress, pouting a full, bottom lip wobble that usually got him anything he desired. But nope, the answer was always, _"No, Stiles. We're not getting a puppy, baby," _and when he asked why not with a whine and stamp of his foot, the reply would always be, _"Mommy's allergic, baby. The puppy will make her sneeze and not feel very well."_

Stiles, even though upset, was a very understanding boy, and would nod his head and sigh quietly with a, _"Yes Mommy,_" before letting his hands rest on the glass, pressing his nose to it and giggling when a puppy licked over the spot, forgetting quite fast about how he couldn't have one of his own.

After Stiles' Mom died, the first time his dad took him to the pet store, he'd melted down into a full-blown panic attack right there on the _Welcome _mat, sobbing choked _no's _and _Mommy's not here!_

It had taken nearly an hour to calm him down, the store owner sitting him down on the bench outside the store and gently encouraging him to breathe (_"In and out, sweetie, in and out. Just keep breathing. You're going to be _okay), before running back into the store and kindly bringing out a small puppy from the pen, placing it on his lap. Stiles had cuddled it to his chest, panic attack now resided, bawling his eyes out into its fur as the puppy whined and nuzzled into his neck.

That was the day Stiles became more attached to the puppies, more than he'd ever been before. The urge to have a puppy was different now. It wasn't to have a play buddy. A side kick to get into trouble with and to create mischief with, to roll in the mud and get dirty with. No, it was to have a companion. A small, little ball of fur and warmth he could snuggle with and share the aches and pains in his heart with, knowing he would not be judged, just comforted.

Stiles wanted a puppy purely based on one sole purpose: to feel like he was not alone in the world.

* * *

Derek and Stiles are walking down the street. (Yep, _that _street.) Stiles is quiet, which is un-usual and more than a little odd, but Derek doesn't say anything simply because he values this moment of peace where he can actually think without his brain being ruptured from its thoughts by Stiles' ramblings.

It's only when they pass a lone pet store (no other stores surrounding it, neither the area), does Stiles finally break out of his silent phase and start to jabber. His yell of, _"Derek, look!" _startles Derek to nearly trip over his own two feet, barely missing the edge of the curb.

"What?" Derek grumbles snappishly, wincing at the ache that travels through his ankle, having twisted it to keep himself from face planting on the side walk.

"A pet store! Can we look? Please, please, please?" Stiles hops from one foot to the other, very nearly on his tippy toes, and his fingers reach out to tug on Derek's sleeve.

Derek looks up at the building, sighing low in his throat. Stiles already has him wrapped around his little finger. "Sure." He shrugs. "Why not."

Stiles grins, practically bouncing over the _Welcome _mat and into the store. Derek follows behind slowly, nostrils flaring and taking in the scents of puppy and kitten fur, bird feathers and pet food.

When Derek catches up to Stiles, he finds the young man in front of the puppy pen, cooing at the little furry animals chasing each other behind the glass. One puppy in particular, a brown and white pug, bounds over and head buts right into it before shaking itself off and yipping happily.

Stiles squeals.

That's it.

The sound of _want_.

"Oh my—Derek, can we have him?! He's so cute!"

Derek frowns, eyeing the puppy (its wide obsidian eyes and scrunched up face, tongue lolling out as it licks the glass where Stiles' nose is pressed up against it), before…

"No."

Stiles' whole frame tenses as he turns around, almost in slow motion, grin from earlier wiped off of his face and replaced with a scowl. "H-Huh?" His voice sounds confused and hurt at the same time.

"We're not getting the puppy, Stiles." Derek forces the words out. It's so hard to do with Stiles looking at Derek like he's somehow given the puppy a death wish by prohibiting him from having it.

"But—why not?" Stiles' tone is low, very nearly a whimper. It's almost uncanny how the pug behind the glass raises and places a paw against it, tilting its head and whimpering in sync with him.

"We're just not. And that's the end of it, Stiles." Derek stalks out of the pet store, wincing and lowering his head down when he hears Stiles' choked exhale of breath.

He doesn't wait to see if Stiles is behind him, following him out or not.

* * *

"Mr. Sourwolf isn't here right now, girl. It's okay," is the first thing Derek hears as he's about to slide open the loft's door. It's Stiles, obviously, his voice a low and gentle murmur, the tone he mostly uses when Derek's having a nightmare and needs comforting.

But it's not _just _Stiles.

Derek freezes, jaw ticking as he hears the fluttering beat of not one, but _two _hearts inside his loft. When he inhales he smells just what he expected, yet dreaded.

Puppy fur.

"_Stiles_," he seethes, sliding open the door so fast that it rebounds off the other side, slamming shut as he enters. The puppy yips, jumping in fright as the loud noise startles it, Stiles' head snapping up at the exact same time, eyes wide and wary.

"Derek," he says slowly, picking the puppy up, the puppy's head practically smothered to his chest as he cuddles it close to him.

"Just wait, I can explain—"

"What is that _thing_—"

They both talk at that precise moment, words cut off by each other's. Stiles' jaw is set, eyes hard. Derek matches it with his stormy eyebrows.

"Get that _thing_ out of here," he growls when he's finally sure that he can speak and not get interrupted. Stiles' eyes squint, narrowing in anger.

"No," he replies snidely, hugging the puppy closer to his chest. "Coco is staying here, with us."

"Coco?" Derek barks out a laugh.

"Yes, _Coco_. It's her name," Stiles says icily. Derek watches, fuming, as his boyfriend's eyes soften a fraction as the man looks down and shushes Coco, the puppy whimpering and squirming in his arms. She can probably feel the unsettling emotions in the room and it's un-nerving her quite a bit.

"Well, _Coco _can't stay here." Derek storms into the kitchen, setting the shopping bags on top of the counter. When he turns around, meeting Stiles' bitter scowl and dark mocha eyes, it's starting to feel like World War III. "So you're going to have to find some place _else_."

Stiles abruptly rises to his feet, standing up dead straight, moving the puppy's body up a little so her head is now resting in the crook of his neck, nose pressed there. His _neck_.

Derek's hands fist at his sides as he bites down the snarl threatening to rip from his throat.

Stiles must understand what it implies, for his lips twitch up slightly into a knowing smirk.

"Stiles—"

"_Fine _then, we're leaving." Stiles cuts him off again, looks like he doesn't give half a shit as he strides past Derek and to the loft door. He faces Derek for a second, smiling sarcastically, and snarls, "Now you can have the whole place for _yourself_," before leaving with a heavy stamp of footsteps, but as usual, soft click of the door sliding shut.

Derek just stands there. His heavy breaths sound like a pin drop in the silence of the loft, his eyes flickering from blue to hazel, claws pricking into his palms as the wolf in him howls at him to move, chase and reclaim their run-away mate. Sooner or later the milk starts to go sour from being un-refrigerated.

Derek still doesn't move.

* * *

Stiles is sleeping, Coco huddled safe and warm against his bare chest, breathing soft little puppy snores into the blankets encasing them, when he hears the sound of the latch on his window being picked open with a claw.

_Derek_.

He doesn't move, pretending to be asleep as he hears feet shuffle against his carpet, the bed dipping a tiny bit underneath him. He half-expects it when a crisp puff of air tickles the curve of his ear, before a slightly wet kiss places itself on his ear lobe.

"I'm sorry."

Stiles can't stop it, doesn't bother to fight the sleepy smile that graces his lips, and snorts a breath through the cracks of his teeth in response. He lifts an arm, opening his and Coco's cocoon of comfort for Derek, who he feels settle with them, curling an arm around Stiles and pulling both him and Coco to his chest. The gesture, even though Stiles isn't a werewolf, reeks of acceptance.

_I'm sorry_ might be only two words, but to him, to Derek, to _them_, the meaning behind it is enough to fill an entire dictionary.

* * *

**_I hope all you lovely people out there liked it too! Don't be shy to let me know what you thought ^-^_**


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